Constant Viligance
by rckmn
Summary: Harry Potter had the perfect pedigree to be a monster of a wizard: Auror parents, a penchant for dangerous situations, near unlimited access to magical academia, skill from the Dark Lord himself, not to mention he's clutch as fuck. In canon, his growth was stunted. Not here though. Ambition can shape even the meekest of men. Realistic interpretation starting at OoTP.


Constant Vigilance

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything vaguely related to it.

A prelude to this story: Reading Harry Potter as a child seriously changed my life. Reading Rowling's story about The Boy Who Lived took me to places I could've only hoped to have seen in dreams; I was in utter bliss that someone could write something so beautiful, and I was so happy just to be alive to be able to read it. It pisses me off that there is so much shoddy writing on this site (not to say that there's not quality writing; I'm fucking ecstatic when I find a good story, it's just hard to come by), so I figured if I could write a halfway decent one, other people who are in the same boat as me could take haven in another quality piece of work, not just another drabble, or that Fawkes/Basilisk high school slash fic I've been meaning to get around to writing just for the heck of it (seriously, the fact the giant squid comes up in the character filter makes me laugh so fucking hard), but yeah, have at it. This story won't be perfect, and will probably come off as a bit rough around the edges at times, but the plot will not be subpar, I can assure you that.

Anyways, enough griping; here's a bit of background on what I want to do with the story.

Goblet of Fire has always been and most likely will remain my favorite book of the series, because it's when shit gets real. Not to say fighting off a giant snake in a sewer while sister of your best friend's life hangs on the line or traveling back in time so you can save your estranged godfather from having his soul sucked out doesn't constitute as 'real shit,' but GoF is where the "a series for children" really starts not to apply, and Harry is seriously affected by the events that transpire during it, and you see a treasure cove of character development from not just him, but everyone around him as well. Harry is constantly pushed to both his physical and emotional limits just to scrape by (and really, without the all the aid he received either directly or indirectly from Crouch Jr, Triwizard would have straight raped him on the First Task as opposed to him getting out alive by the skin of his teeth). However, that doesn't really matter, because the fact remains that he got through it, and as a result from it, he should've been pretty hardened by it.

At this point, having gone through everything from Philosopher's Stone to end of Goblet, Harry's mental status going into OotP should be one of two things: (a) a complete shriveling mess of crippling anxiety and paranoia, or (b) a hardened rising wizard who's realized that the magical world isn't the perfect place he'd always imagined it to be, and along with growing disbelief of the ineptitude of the Ministry and the looming threat Voldemort's return poses, showing the development of a line of thinking indicidive him eventually becoming a truly revolutionary figure in magical society. In cannon, we get a combination of (a) and (b); in laymens terms, a whiny bitch who only is motivated to get his shit together by (a) Hermione, and (b) the nightmares induced due to him being a human Horcrux.

Now, if you want to start arguing that Harry had all the right to be a whiny bitch, you're partially right. Under normal circumstances, any normal child who experienced Harry's life would have been an emotional train wreck not even halfway into Book 1. However, due to the fact Harry was not an emotional vegetable by the end of Book 4, it should be safe to assume this guy has ungodly levels of endurance; coupled with drive and burning ambition to keep him sane even in the darkest of hours and with the help of people around him, having the potential to become a figure truly worthy of being the savior of magical and muggle Britain alike.

Now, in case those of you are thinking "Great, here's another story where Harry's way too OP;" nah, I wouldn't worry about that. You're just gonna have to read to find out.

I'm gonna post the first couple chapters, see how it's received, and continue with it if people seem to like it. I'm writing this trying to stay as true to the book as possible, so if you see something you recognize, congratulations! Get yourself a cookie.

Enough prattling though, here's what you came for.

Chapter 1: Demented Dudley

Summer of 1995 had not been kind to Great Britain in the slightest, with a record-breaking heat wave sweeping across the island nation sending most of her inhabitances seeking shelter within the confines of their air-conditioned homes. However, at the residence of Number 4 Privet Drive, there was one boy laying in a flower bed who was far too preoccupied with his introspection to recognize that he was in fact drenched with sweat.

Harry Potter was currently trying to come to terms with what had been without a doubt the craziest year of his 15 years of living. His past year attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had brought him the closest to the breaking point he'd ever experienced, and he was no stranger to the tribulations life had to offer. Upon his unbeknownst and unwilling entry into The Triwizard Tournament, he'd run a gauntlet of events few would be able to withstand, much less come out victorious.

"Yeah, real victorious alright." Harry muttered darkly to himself. Witnessing the murder of Cedric Diggory at the hand of Peter Pettigrew, a man whose life Harry had advocated sparing barely a year prior, had proven to be a difficult pill to swallow.

Not to mention what had directly transpired after said murder.

The events directly following the death of his fellow competitor would remained etched in Harry's mind no matter how hard he tried to repress them. Watching Voldemort, the man who'd murdered his parents and countless others, resurrected before his eyes with the use of his own blood, the reunion of the Death Eaters, and a duel he still couldn't believe he'd survived.

Only to return to almost be killed yet again by someone he'd come to trust, even admire in some regards. Barty Crouch Jr, a supposed dead man, had spent a year masquerading as one of the most respected Dark Wizard hunters in recent history, Alastor Moody, and no one, not even Dumbledore, had suspected anything amiss until it was too late.

Harry's thoughts then turned to the present. Due to the Dursley's disposition towards the magical world, receiving news of how and what the Ministry was doing in response to the new threat through normal channels was impossible; it was hard enough sending Hedwig out with letters to his friends and godfather, much less receiving The Daily Prophet on a daily basis.

Speaking of his friends, they had been oddly close lipped in the few letters he'd received, and other than "_I expect we'll be seeing you quite soon_" inside his birthday card from Hermione, there had been no real indication of when he'd be escaping the dreaded confides of his Aunt and Uncle's.

'_Why can't anyone tell me what's really going on?'_ Harry lamented as he proceeded to exit the haunt of the flower bed, walking with no particular destination in mind. Ron and Hermione had both eluted to having knowledge of the current situation, but had remained uncharacteristically tight-lipped in their letters. Hell, even his godfather Sirius, who'd been a fantastic source of sensitive information in the past, had only left him with "_I know this must be frustrating for you…" "Keep your nose clean and everything okay…" "Be careful and don't do anything rash." _

'_Like he's one to talk.' _Harry griped to himself as he walked across Magnolia Crescent, turned into Magnolia Road, and began heading towards a darkened playground. Just thinking about how he'd been treated this summer made his stomach clinch in anger, his expression darkening to a frightening degree as he resumed stewing on how it seemed like everyone had forgotten of his existence.

'_Bah, complaining isn't going to fix the problem.' _Harry chastised to himself as he entered the playground, making his way toward the swing set. Unbidden, the voice of Alastor Moody echoed through his mind.

"_Constant Vigilance!" _

"Constant vigilance, huh." Harry muttered to himself, seating himself on a swing, beginning to idly push himself back and forth. Sure, it may have been a Dark Wizard who'd told him that, but that did not detract from the validity of the statement.

'_Perhaps rather than bemoan my situation, I should analyze what information I have on hand.' _Harry postulated as he rocked back and forth. Best case scenario, he gained some insight as to what was going on. Worst case scenario, it would be a nice departure from dwelling in memory lane, which he'd been engulfed in since Summer Holiday beginning. Taking a deep breath, Harry cleared his mind and began looking at what he knew.

'_To the best of my knowledge, Ron and Hermione have never purposely excluded me from anything, and while Ron might have been a git at points, Hermione, at the very least, has never withheld information from me that she wasn't sworn to keep secret by a professor. From the few letters I've received I can assume they're together, but I don't know their location.' _Harry thought, his swing beginning to pick up speed.

'_Sirius has always been open with me about what was going on with him, and since I can't think of anything that would've made him act otherwise, I can assume that it's against his will that he's doing this; or at the very least someone who Sirius would listen to has convinced him otherwise.' _Harry continued, then snorted. Sirius, acting upon someone else's opinion other than his own? It'd take the Headmaster of Hogwarts himself to put the former Azkaban detainee under check.

Then it clicked.

'_Dumbledore?! Why would he not want to inform me of what's going on?! That seems pretty counter-intuitive.' _Harry attempted to rationalize with himself, swing losing its momentum, all but forgotten in light of the revelation. However,

'_Under the given circumstances, this is the only conclusion I can come up with that makes logical sense. A figure that Hermione and Ron would respect enough not to go against; someone who could convince Sirius to keep his silence, even if he disagreed with the decision; I can't say with 100% certainty, but the evidence on hand points towards Professor Dumbledore being the culprit.' _Harry concluded, slightly aghast with his answer.

'_Why though?! What have I done to make Dumbledore not trust me?!' _Harry fumed, his face growing hot with anger. He'd watched Cedric die! He was the one Voldemort was after first! How could Dumbledore of all people leave him in the dark?! The injustice of it all! It's like they didn't even consider his feelings in the slightest!

Harry roughly demounted the swing, kicking the stainless steel frame as he marched angrily around the swing set, swearing under his breath as the only thing this accomplished was a throbbing in his foot. While he attempted not to give in to his impulse to cradle the newly bruised appendage, another thought popped unbidden into his head.

'_Wait, why would Dumbledore not tell me what's going on, but let Ron and Hermione know?' _The sudden question opened up a whole new avenue of thought in Harry's mind. Where was the difference between him and his two friends? Outside of their location (Merlin only knows where they were), Harry couldn't come up with anything.

Wait, location!

'_Ron and Hermione are together, and based on their letters, they have an idea of what's going on. If I add the condition that exchanging information via owl, which is my only means of receiving information from the magical world, is somehow unacceptable, that must mean they're located someplace where information exchange has been deemed acceptable. Furthermore, since Sirius is also assumed to be privy to what's going on, there's a high likelihood he's there as well. That, or he has means other than owl to exchange information with this location, which seems fairly unlikely; he is a "wanted criminal" after all; his pool of resources on the run are incredibly limited.' _Harry surmised. Though nice as it was to have a vague picture of what was going on, he still didn't have any definite answers.

'_Even if what I've deduced is truth, it still leads me back to the same question: why has the flow of information been limited this much?' _Harry wondered, sitting back down on the swing. If only he could figure that out…

Harry's thoughts were then interrupted by someone swearing loudly in the distance. Harry's first instinct was to ignore it, but seconds later his mind recognized that voice.

'_Damn it, like I need this right now.' _Harry bemoaned to himself, turning his head to witness the form of the bipedal whale that was his cousin Dudley and his gang of illustrious associates making their way by the park, passing within 20 yards of him, but failing to recognize his presence.

Part of him urged the group to make their way over to him; to attempt to rile him up, try to come have a go with him now. While as children a match between him and Dudley's posse would (and had on multiple occasions) left him broken crying in the cupboard underneath the stairs, things were different now. While size-wise even the smallest of the motley crew made Harry look like a twig (though taking part of The Triwizard had inadvertently put a substantial amount of muscle on his wiry frame), he had magic now. Harry could practically feel his wand burning a hole in his back pocket, just itching to be taken out. Hexing a few of his childhood tormentors would certainly be a great way to vent some of his frustrations at his friends…

Suddenly, images of Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup levitating helpless Muggles above a raging inferno appeared in his mind, making Harry sick to his stomach. How would he be any different than those Death Eaters if he abused his privilege of using magic against someone who had absolutely no defense against it? Yes, he had power now to make those who had made his life hell as a child cower before him, but what would that make him?

'_A coward, that's what.' _Harry thought, still disgusted with himself for even entertaining the idea. Still, images of the gang lying on the ground riddled with the effects of the Bat-Boogey hex appeared in his mind. Finally, a situation he could control; finally, a chance at giving them a taste of what he'd experienced as a child; an overwhelming sense of helplessness and pain, surely they of all people deserved it. In fact, they were probably on their way to beat up some other innocent kid. Suddenly, Harry realized he was walking towards the gang, wand in hand, the incarnation ready at his tongue. All he had to do was point now…

Harry quickly shoved his wand back into its pocket and violently punched the jungle gym, causing a loud _tang _noise of metal flexing, what had once been whitened knuckle now red with blood.

'_NO!' _Harry screamed internally, his visage now towards the ground, the bleeding appendage now trembling against the metal surface. '_I REFUSE TO USE MAGIC AS A CRUTCH TO MAKE UP FOR MY OWN INABILITY!' _

Harry retracted his arm, staring at the bleeding knuckle, suddenly chuckling to himself. It was if the sudden metal outburst and throbbing hand had cleared some cloud that had been bogging his mind down for who knows how long, maybe it was since Cedric had died, or maybe even before that. One thing was certain though.

'_It matters not what has happened up till this point. I see it all now; my faults, my failings, and my shortcomings. I've squandered opportunities to better myself, and more times than not I've chosen what was easy rather than what was right. However, that problem has been rectified now that it's been identified. The path before me is clear now, and I will gain the necessary strength to walk down it; there are no other option. Even if the chances of success are infinitely close to 0, I will still succeed. Those who have died for my sake are not truly gone; no, they live on in my heart, urging me to move forward. Those who are alive around me support the path I walk, without them, I would be nothing; but because of them, I will become everything. This rotting world around me, I will change it, no matter what I must endure, for that is my purpose.' _

Harry punched the air, spraying the humid air with the residual blood left on his knuckles, smirking as he began to make his way back to the residence of Number 4 Privet Drive, with one thought on his mind.

'_I don't know where or what you're doing, Tom, but know your days are numbered. I'll be the one who wins this game in the end, I'll make sure of that.' _

However, before Harry's mental prep talk could continue, loud voices belonging to members of Dudley's friend group interrupted his thoughts. Harry paused, curious to see the proceedings.

'_Looks like I missed whatever was going on.' _Harry concluded, seeing the group was in the middle of saying their farewells at the entrance to Magnolia Crescent. He quickly stepped into the shadow of a nearby large lilac tree, and waited.

"… squealed like a pig, didn't he?" Malcom was saying, the others scoffing at his barb.

"Nice right hook, Big D," said Piers.

"Same time tomorrow?" said Dudley

"Round at my place, my parents are out," said Gordon.

"See you then," said Dudley.

"Bye Dud!"

"See ya, Big D!"

'Oh my God, this is gold.' Harry thought to himself, attempting to stifle his laughter as he watched the rest of the gang move on, then moving quickly as to catch up with Dudley, who had already turned the corner into Magnolia Crescent, soon coming with reasonable hailing distance of Dudley. Waddling along humming to himself tunelessly, he a prime target.

"Hey, Big D!"

Dudley turned, the look of confusion on his face quickly morphing into a grimace.

"Oh," he grunted. "It's just you."

"How long you been 'Big D' for?" Said Harry, trying to, but failing miserably to keep the smirk off his face. "It's nice that your friends cover for you like that; wouldn't want people knowing how small your dick actually is."

"SHUT IT!" Dudley exclaimed, turning away again.

"It's not good to lie to people like that though." Harry chastised, falling to step with his cousin. "Of course, Ickle Diddykins is just so much more accurate if we're on that subje.."

"I said, SHUT IT!" said Dudley, whose giant hands were had now curled into fists.

"Don't the boys know that's what your mum calls you?"

"Shut your face."

"You don't tell her to shut her face. What about 'popkin' and 'Dinky Diddydums,' both of which are still way more accurate that 'Big D' if we're still on the subject; can I use those?

Dudley's entire body at this point seemed to be vibrating, Harry noted. Apparently it was taking a great deal of self-restraint not to begin pummeling Harry.

"So who've you been beating up tonight?" Harry asked, face now showing no evidence of the large grin which had been present seconds before. "Another ten year old? Poor Mark Evens, I don't think he'll be able to walk straight for another couple weeks after what you did to him two nights ago—"

"He was asking for it." Dudley snarled, eyebrows twitching.

"….. Really?"

"He cheeked me."

"Yeah? Did he ask how you evolved from your whale predecessors so quickly? I mean, from a biological standpoint, it's quite fascinating; I still wonder about it myself. Sometimes while I lie wake, I'm plagued by the question 'just what on earth became of that tail?'

Muscles in Dudley's jaw were now twitching, giving Harry a small bit of satisfaction, though he resigned to lay off him. Prat Dudley might be, but antagonizing him further would just be low of him.

Turning onto the narrow alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk, Harry idly remised his first encounter with Sirius. A small smile came across his face as their muffled footsteps reverberated off a garage wall and a large fence running parallel to it.

"Think you're a big man carrying that thing, don't you?" Dudley said after a few seconds.

"You mean my wand? Saying that is kinda pointless; we both know I'm not supposed to use it outside of school." Harry said, hands in his front pockets. "Also, it's kind of my policy not to abuse the privilege I've been given; big of a prat you've been to me, I wouldn't use something against you that you have no defense against. I'd sooner fight you head on and lose honorably than lower myself to use magic against you." Harry finished, purposely looking the opposite direction of Dudley.

The following silence was palatable; Dudley obviously had not been expecting the answer Harry had given. Then, it was Harry's turn to be surprised when Dudley spoke up a few moments later.

"You've changed."

"Oh yeah, how so?"

"The old you would have held it over my head that you could use magic on me to even the playing field between us, instead now you calmly admit that you wouldn't do something that would give you an unfair advantage against me, even after what's happened between us. I guess that Cedric guy really had an impact on you."

Harry whirled around, glaze firmly set on Dudley. "How do you know about that?!"

"You talk in your sleep."

"Oh."

"You talked about your dad and mum too. 'He's going to kill me mum!' 'He killed Cedric, help me Dad, he's going to kill me!'"

"Is that right?" Harry murmured to himself as he began to look at the path in front of them, hair falling over his glasses, obscuring his eyes. Silence again reigned supreme between them before-

"Shit hit the fan last year, didn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah it did."

Suddenly, a chill swept over both of them. Somehow, the night had changed. The sky, which had once been streaked with indigo and spotted with stars, now was suddenly devoid of all light, the misty streetlights at either end of the ally had gone out. The warm summer night was now devoid of any warmth; instead replaced with an icy chill. Harry shuddered to himself, before realizing he'd felt this before.

'_Impossible! Why on Earth would they be in Little Whinging?! This presence though, it's unmistakable; this can only be one thing…' _Harry's thoughts trailed off as he strained his ears to hear, praying not to hear the hoarse, rattling breaths of what his gut was telling him was responsible for.

"Whha-What's going on?!" demanded Dudley, suddenly aware that something was amiss. "Arre you-u doing ththththis?" He stammered, widely looking around.

"Two bits of useful information: One, no." Harry began, his ears confirming his fears, the horrible sense of dread once again seemingly seeping into his bones.

"Two, run."

Dudley began running as fast as he could, unfortunately, it was the opposite way of the direction Harry had opted to run. Two equally thick skulls made contact with each other, sending both boys to the ground.

Harry felt his wand fly out of his back pocket as he hit the ground hard, visage now spotted with small white lights.

"Fuck, just my luck." Harry mumbled to himself as he tried to regain his bearings. Finding his wand was the first priority though..

All of a sudden, Harry heard a horrible squealing noise, followed by the sound of a body thrashing against the ground.

Staggering to his feet, Harry could make out the form of his cousin on the ground along with a creeping chill seemingly emanating from Dudley's general direction.

"SHIT, DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH CLOSED! WHATEVER HAPPENS, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! Wand, I need my wand!" Harry muttered frantically, hands scrambling across the ground in hopes of finding their one means out of this situation.

"Damn it, _Acio Wand!_"

He'd said the spell out of reflex, desperate to have the wand back in his possession again- and to his disbelieving relief, suddenly he could feel the ever familiar handle of his 11'' holly wand was back in right hand. Wasting no time, he stood and spun on his heels, only to come face to face with a towering hooded figure, gliding towards him at speeds Harry was not comfortable with.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _

As the telltale silver wisp of vapor shot out of his wand, Harry swore to himself as the charm failed to become fully corporeal, the dementor becoming ever closer. The feeling of dread was increasing at a staggering rate. Harry's visage became clouded, and he vaguely became aware there was something icy on his throat, and his back was up against something hard. He began to feel his consciousness fade. Suddenly, a voice in his head resonated, a singular word.

"_NO."_

Knocking the dementor's bony hand away from his trachea, Harry stared directly into the eyeholes in the hooded figure assailing him, quickly raising his wand so it was right between the two holes.

"_Expecto Patronum."_

A giant explosion of silver light was all Harry could see next, along with a horrible screeching noise. Turning in the direction Dudley was in, Harry saw his cousin curled on the ground; his arms guarding his face; a second dementor crouch low over him, grasping fat writs as it lowered its cephalic region towards Dudley's face, as if about to kiss him.

"GET IT!" Harry bellowed, the stag instantly careening with incredible speed towards his fallen cousin. The dementor's eyeless face was mere inches from Dudley's face when the stag's antlers pierced through the clocked figure, resulting in a second horrific screeching sound that had Harry wanting to claw his eardrums out, followed only by the sound of Dudley's erratic breathing.

Harry's body sagged as he leaned against the fence, his instincts letting him know the immediate danger now gone, as he became increasingly aware of how sweaty he was. Moon, stars, and streetlamp once again were shining brightly, as if nothing ever happened.

As Harry panted, he shook his head in disbelief. What were dementors doing here, in Little Whinging of all places?

'_This was definitely no coincidence though; if there was any question about their loyalties, Dumbledore would have never let them that close to the school, and in all my reading about them during third year, I got the impression the Ministry kept an extremely close eye on them. Maybe there was a dangerous wizard in the area and they mistook me for him or her… Though I feel like the likelihood of that is fairly low. Something strange is going on here, that's for sure.' _Harry concluded, finally felt strong enough to stand without assistance.

Pushing himself off the wall, he looked over at Dudley, who was still breathing erratically and occasionally whimpering. Harry began to walk in his direction to see if he was in a fit state to stand when he heard fast footsteps behind him. Turning quickly, he realized that it was Mrs. Figg, their batty old neighbor. Attempting to hurriedly put his wand away but failing miserably, he was stopped in his attempt when he heard—

"Don't put it away, idiot boy!" She shrieked. "What if there are more of them around?! Oh, I'm going to _kill _Mundungus Fletcher!"


End file.
